


The Prince

by partofforever (edvic)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Time Travel, Disney References, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Partial Mind Control, The Perks of Being Able To Ship Tom With Basically Anyone, Time Travel, tomaise sounds like mayonaise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7409578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edvic/pseuds/partofforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaise decides to help Draco in his experiments with the magical cabinet. Something goes wrong and the Slytherin finds himself in the Room of Hidden Things in what seems to be another time. He's not alone though; a mysterious man wearing an uncommonly beautiful diadem takes him on the blurred edge between a horror and a fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic for The Perks of Pairing Challenge – this time I had to write about Tom and Blaise and let me tell you – it was more fun than I thought it could be, especially after falling for the idea of Blaise being secretly a huge Disney fan.

 Blaise Zabini looked around and understood immediately that something went wrong.

“Holy Shinto,” the Slytherin boy tried his best at cursing. His mother was very strict when it came to good manners.

Fortunately there was no one around to hear his Muggle movie reference. Husband no. 3, a Ministry official, was a huge fan of non-magical cinema and Blaise had to occasionaly go out with him. He would never admit that he enjoyed thier small trips, the smell of popcorn – especially the caramel one – and dark halls with cozy seats. Husband no. 6 had a really young daughter, so he had a chance to find a reasonable explanation to see all new Disney movies.

“I'm surrounded by idiots,” Blaise stated aloud, but irronically enough, he was surrounded by literally no one.

His voice echoed in the never-ending labirynth of forgotten books and ancient quidditch broomsticks. He was in the Room of Hidden Things, but it seemed that - first of all - he was there alone and - secondly - he was probably stuck in some weird alternate universe or wherever the cursed cabinet sent him to. Draco Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Why did he agree to take part in his experiment? He should have allowed Malfoy to use Crabbe or Goyle... The cabinet took him to some Hogwarts-Neverland.

He made a few steps closer towards what seemed to be a once marvelous armchair; time made it worn out and dusty, but Blaise had to sit down and collect his thought. What should he do? Wait for Malfoy to help him? It would be like waiting for a miracle... On the other hand, did he even have a choice?

He should have listened to his witty mother and stay out of Draco's business, whatever it was. He could only suspect that it was illegal, dangerous and had something to do with the Dark Lord himself. Draco seemed desperate to finish his task and Blaise knew good enough that making Draco Malfoy nervous was nearly as impossible as making him talkative.

Suddenly something caught his eyes; a small book right in the middle of a huge pile. He knew it so well! His mother might have been a purist, but Husband no. 2 was so rich she didn't care about his half-blood status. He was the one to read Blaise some Muggle fairytales and legends, just like this one – _Snow White and the seven dwarves_. And the adaptation was an absolute classic!

“ _Some day my prince will come, some day I'll find my love,_ ” he singed softly, trying to catch the right tune, standing up and swirling a bit. He could as well use this rare occasion to act freely. “ _And how thrilling that moment will be, when the prince of my dreams comes to me._ ”

The prince of his dreams, what a joke! His mother would tell him not to be so bitter; she believed resentment was leaving a stigma on people's faces, making them age too fast. Looking at her Blaise had to question how did she manage not to feel bitter even for once. Maybe it was just as she said: _let people look at you, but never touch you_.

And just when he thought nothing else could surprise him – he was stuck somewhere with no way back in the end - someone started whistling the song not far away.

At first he was ready to jump in joy. Was it Draco coming to his aid? But then he remembered that Draco Malfoy could do many thing and whistling wasn't one of them. He could only make that simple signal-like whistle and not carry a whole melody. And on top of that, how would he even know this song, for Merlin's sake? There was no chance Mrs. Malfoy sang it to him.

Blaise reached for his wand, but of course it wasn't where he thought it would be. Draco suggested he should leave it before entering the magic cabinet; he wasn't sure if the wand would be able to alter his experiment's results... Why did he listen to him? Once again Blaise regreted taking part in this all. He should be sitting in the common room right now, sipping some tea, finishing his essay for Flitwick, looking greacefully at the same time.

The footsteps were getting closer. What should he do? Hide? What was the point in hiding if he practicaly gave away where he was, because he felt the sudden urge to sing? Why wasn't he more careful?

Before he could make a decision, someone emerged from around one of the tall bookshelves.

It was a man whose age Blaise couldn't guess. His features seemed truly _ageless_ in an unnatural way, as if he was some kind of a waxwork. Sickly pale, dark haired, with eyes that made Blaise shiver for no other reason than being so dangerously inhuman. And he was wearing the most beautiful piece of jewelery Blaise has ever seen - an adorned diadem with an oval shaped sapphire.

A silly thought about _his prince_ crossed Blaise's mind.

The stranger looked at him appraisingly. It didn't feel... right. He was the one to look at people this way.

"What are you doing here?," Blaise asked finally, abandoning his usual aloofness. He was scared and hoping to find help, even though the man was making him uneasy. Maybe hiding was his better option.

“I could ask you the same question,” the stranger replied, but his face relaxed a little after a moment; a lazy grimace that could be probably called a smile - in absence of a better word - appeared on his lips. “A Slytherin?”

“Yes, I am,” Blaise confirmed, and to change the subject somehow, he added: “That's a lovely tiara." 

“It looks awful,” the pale man said, smiling at himself crookedly in a broken mirror somebody left nearby Merlin knows when. His features seemes blurred, amorphous in a way, but Blaise guessed he must have been handsome not so long ago. 

“That's because it's on you, dear,” the Slytherin student tried to play it the way his mother would. _When scared, act cheeky and pray no one notices._ “I should try it on,” he suggested, reaching out for the tiara. 

“Should you?,” the stranger asked, taking a step back. The wild look in his eyes got a little bit more dangerous.

But once again, his face muscules relaxed and the man walked towards him. Up close he seemed even... colder. _Half-dead_ , Blaise thought, finally finding the right words to describe the man. Was he a vampire? The thought was scary... and thrilling and the same time. He's heard stories of vampires from Husband No. 5, who was a well known researcher and even wrote a few books concering the blood-sucking creatures... They were supposedly extraordinary lovers. Wait, why would he even think about it? And what exactly would be a vampire doing at Hogwarts? 

He felt the stranger's hands on his forehead. A frigid shiver run down his spine, but it wasn't as unpleasant as he thought it would be.

The diadem was unexpectedly heavy, as if instead of jewelery he was wearing a crown of stones on his head. His thoughts began to blur weirdly; it seemed some of them became extraordinarily clear – he's realized with an uncommon clarity that he'd love to spend the rest of his life designing haute couture robes - but other started to get foggy, like the reason of him being here with the unknown man. A temping whisper - was it even possible? - echoed inside his head and he was nearly sure it was the stranger's voice. 

"Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?," Blaise has heard his own voice, but it took him a moment to see his reflection in the old mirror. What was happening?

"Lips red as the rose," the man said, standing behind his back, hands on Blaise's arms. "Hair black as ebony. But your skin... It definitely isn't white as snow," a hint of smile was heard in the starnger's voice. He moved one of his palms to Blaise's cheek. "Not that I mind."

Their eyes met through the broken reflection. What was happening? _Your prince_ , a voice echoed in Blaise's head again. His... prince? Weren't princes acting differetnly? Something wasn't as it should be, but he couldn't quite grasp the thought or conclusion, not when the cold hand was caressing the side of his neck so soflty, tenderly. Why would he be afraid? In the end he has never met a prince. And this one might be treacherous, but he was intriguing too. Beautifully dangerous.

He felt a insistent kiss on the small of his back. He had to decide and the prince wasn't used to waiting.

Blaise raised his hand and stroked the man's hair. It was soft, strangely mismatched with the sickly pale skin. He felt an unfamiliar desire at the back of his head... or maybe somewhere lower? He's never wantd anyone that much.

"Are you my prince?," Blaise asked stupidly, smiling slightly at his own naivety.

"And what are a prince's duties?," his seducer wanted to know. His hands were already skilfully unbuttoning his black shirt.

“Well, there's the usual things: flowers-," a kiss on his throat, "chocolates-," a bite just above his collarbone, "promises you don't intend to keep..."

"Then I can promise you we'll live happily ever after," the man laughed a little bit too malevolently, but Blaise couldn't care less. Something happened to him, a curse or a granted wish - whichever it was, he didn't want to think about it now.

It seemed a fire was burning somewhere inside him and only that mysterious man would be able to tame it.

“Your name?,” Blaise managded to breathe out between the stranger's lustful kisses. One more and he could lose his mind.

“My name?,” his unexpected lover smiled, as if it was an especially amusing question to ask. “ I'm Lord...," he stopped suddenly, letting Blaise suck on his lower lip. "You may call me Tom tonight."

"Tom," he whispered back, tasting the name and grabbing his robes harder; he had to be _closer_. 

He's never felt such need. Until this day he was sure there was no one who could _touch_ him, as mother said it. No one he would _let_ do it. Was Tom playing with his mind somehow? Or maybe it was his own mind playing games with himself? Was he trapped somewhere beyond time, where his fantasies could become real?

The thought left him as rapidly as it appeared; there were other, more important things he had to take care of. 

What was happening? He felt hands, _Tom's_ hands, all over his body.

Suddenly his prince grabbed his waist tightly and pinned him to the side of the cabinet that brought him there; the diadem fell of his head.

 _He's going to kill me_ , Blaise realized suddenly, his thoughts his own again. His heart started beating even faster, though he wasn't sure wheather it was because of the dreadful thought or because Tom's hands were getting lower on his torso with a frightening speed.

He had to get away, to run, but it was so hard to collect his thoughts properly.

Something rattled inside the Vanishing Cabinet.

Of course! It was his only chance. He had to pray it worked this time.

Breaking the kiss with enormous efoort, Blaise reached for the handle with his free hand.

He saw Tom's puzzled eyes; there was only a hint of anger in them... for now. Blaise didn't have time to wait for him to regain his composure.

One step and he was in; the door closed behind him swiflty. 

 

…

 

“Blaise?,” a familiar voice seemed to be calling him from afar. “Blaise, are you all right?”

He opened his eyes slowly; the lights were unbearably bright after what seemed an endless darkness. Draco Malfoy was stading above him with a nervous expression.

“What happened? Where were you for so long?,” the Slytherin prefect couldn't wait to hear some answers.

“I... I was...” _here all the time_ , Blaise wanted to say, but stopped suddenly. What would his mother do? _Keep silent and pretend nothing happened._ "I think something went wrong," he said quietly in the end, trying to avoid his classmate's eyes.

Draco looked at him for a long unpleasant moment, taking particular interest in his unbuttoned shirt, but in the end he just shrugged his shoulders and helped Blaise get up.

They were near the door, when Blaise thought of something out of the blue:

"Draco, remember how you promised me to do anything I'd ask you to, if I took part in your stupid experiment?" He wanted his voice to sound confident as usually, but it was hard to achieve after what happaned. His legs were still shaking slightly. 

“Of course I remember, Blaise,” Draco responded impatiently. “Be quick about it, you know Snape seems to be _everywhere_ these days.”

“The Dark Lord,” he began hesitantly. “What does he look like?”

**Author's Note:**

> The quotes you might have spotted were from The Lion King, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, The Sleeping Beauty and Beauty and the Beast.  
> How would Tom Riddle know the song? Snow White and the Seven Dwarves came out in 1938, when he was 12, so I guess he might somehow come across it, whether he hated Muggle-made things or not. All the movies Blaise quoted were released before 1997, when this story takes place.  
> I never wrote a story about that Tom-Voldemort person, when he was somewhere between his original and new self; it was a challenging but refreshing thing to do. His actions... I guess he'd find it entertaining to seduce a beautiful student and make out with him wearing one of his horcruxes. You know, the usual twisted fantasies. He was getting over confident at time too and probably wouldn't even consider Blaise escaping.  
> PS A day may come when I learn how to write smut properly. But it is not this day.


End file.
